Love Letters: A Fluffy Bones Fic
by Brennanite47
Summary: Booth can't explain his feelings for Bones, so with Angela's help, a series of mysterious poems appear in Brennan's office. B
1. Prologue & Letter One

_**Love Letters**_

_**Prologue**_

Seeley Booth was at his wits end. There was no way he could deal with his pain any longer. He had to find a way to show her how much he cared. There was nothing else he could do. If he worked, he'd want her opinion. If he wanted to go out to eat, he'd invite her to come along with him. If he took a nap on his couch, he'd dream about her. He couldn't escape.

What he wanted to do was to charge his way down to that lab, take her in his arms and kiss her relentlessly. That wouldn't work, however, because that would be too direct and make her feel uncomfortable. His mind couldn't come up with a feasible way of showing his emotions. It wasn't like he could ask anyone's advice either; nobody at that lab could keep a secret to save their soul and his buddies at the Hoover building would make fun of him. Where was there a beer when you needed one.

An idea had suddenly dawned on him as he stared at the desktop of his computer screen. This would have to be done smoothly and quietly with just a little insider's help from a certain artist.

_**Letter One**_

Temperance Brennan walked into the Jeffersonian like any other day she would. She checked in with Cam for lab results and Hodgins for isotope analysis and then go to her office to check her email. When she came into her office today, she saw a very neatly folded piece of paper resting on her keyboard with her name on it in unfamiliar script. She opened it and quickly read through it like she would a crime report. This, she soon realized, was no crime report. She looked at it with wide eyes and went off in search for Angela.

Brennan charged into her best friend's office. "Do you know about this?" she asked.

Angela looked up at Brennan's distressed appearance, "What is it, sweetie?"

"Take a look," Brennan said while sliding the paper in front of her. Angela read:

"All things uncomely and broken,

All things worn-out and old,

The cry of a child by the roadway,

The creak of a lumbering cart,

The heavy steps of the ploughman,

Splashing the wintry mould,

Are wronging your image that blossoms

A rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things

Is a wrong too great to be told,

I hunger to build them anew

And sit on a green knoll apart,

With the earth and the sky and the water,

Remade, like a casket of gold

For my dreams of your image that blossoms

A rose in the deeps of my heart.

-your Secret Admirer

"Aww…Brennan, it looks like you've got a certain someone pinning for you." Angela said as she finished the enticing read.

"But who would go to the trouble of writing me an entire poem?" Brennan asked confusedly.

"Oh, someone didn't write this, this is William Butler Yeats that wrote this. Someone is just trying to send the message that they think you're beautiful and there's a place in their heart for you." Angela replied.

"Since when do you know so much about poetry, Angela?" Brennan said.

"It's the artist in me, sweetie, and I started reading so I would know if Hodgins was cheating on his poems to me." Angela said with a smirk.

Brennan sighed. The raw emotions of writing poetry had always been a little foggy to her. "What should I do, Ange?" she pleaded.

"I would just wait it out a little sweetie, until you can actually sit down and think rationally who would send you a beautiful love poem. Who knows? Maybe it's Booth." Angela said teasingly.

Brennan laughed despite herself, "This doesn't seem like the work of Booth to me. I've got to get to work. Lunch later?"

"Of course." Angela replied as Brennan stormed out of her office. She waited until Brennan was on the forensic platform, engrossed in a human body, before she whipped out her phone to send a very short text message saying:

_First one down, hope u know what ur doing_

She hit send without a second thought. She prayed he knew what he doing.


	2. Letter Two

_**Letter Two**_

Brennan returned from lunch with Angela like she would any other day. She was surprised she hadn't heard from Booth yet that day. He usually always called her, case or no case. She brushed it off by thinking he had paperwork he was swamped in.

Angela followed Brennan into her office where Brennan gaped at her desk. On her keyboard, similar to earlier, there was another carefully folded piece of paper with her name on it. She looked over at Angela who only offered a reassuring smile.

"Do you think it's from the same person?" Brennan asked.

"Only one way to find out." Angela said while sitting in the chair in front off her friend's desk.

Brennan hesitantly opened the letter, looked up, read aloud:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;

Nor lose possessions of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

P.S. Think with your heart and not with your head.

-Your Secret Admirer

"Hmm…Shakespeare, Sonnet eighteen. A very beautiful choice." Angela said.

"Angela! This is driving me nuts, what am I supposed to do?" Brennan asked. She looked seriously frustrated with the mystery letters. "And what does this mean, 'think with your heart and not with your head'"?

"Must be someone that knows you well enough that you're not a heart person." Angela mused.

A smile suddenly spread across Brennan's face as she hatched an idea. She wheeled over to her laptop and called up a poetry website.

"What are you doing, Bren?" Angela walked around to see the screen.

"Ange, if this person knows how to get into my office, I'm gonna leave one here for them and see how they like to be messed with." Brennan had an evil glint in her eye.

"Bren, isn't that kind of dangerous?" Angela knew it wasn't dangerous at all, but she wanted to keep the persona she didn't know what was going on.

"Oh, come on, Ange, we know it's someone either in the lab or that has access to it and I know everyone who does. It's just a little ploy." Brennan showed great excitement towards her devious little scheme.

"Ok, have fun sweetie." Angela said. As soon as she was out of earshot of Brennan's office, she hit the speed-dial on her cell phone. "Little change in plans…" she closed and locked the door to her office.


	3. Letter Three

_**Letter Three**_

Booth came into Brennan's office early the next morning to retrieve the note Angela said she'd be leaving on her keyboard. He did so very quickly, not even stopping to read it. He grabbed it and ran, fearing that Brennan might be lurking around some dark corner of the lab just to catch her mystery lover in the act. He didn't slow down until he was safely in his own office at the Hoover building with door locked until he pulled it out eagerly like a six-year-old with a birthday present.

The hand-writing was uniquely her own as he read.

"It lies not in our power to love or hate,For will in us is overruled by two are stripped, long ere the course begin,We wish that one should love, the other win;And one especially do we affectOf two gold ingots, like in each respect:The reason no man knows, let it suffice,What we behold is censured by our both deliberate, the love is slight:Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?"

-T.

"Damn it!" he thought. Angela swore that she didn't know who it was. He wasn't certain if his operation had been blown or not. It didn't seem like it yet. There was still that hope that Brennan didn't know who was sending the love letters and she was just trying to mess with him.

Booth had to rely on the latter in order to bulk up for the next poem. He pulled up the website he'd bookmarked. _Two can play at that game, Miss Priss, _he thought.

~.~

-Christopher Marlow's "Who Ever Loved, that Not Loved at First Sight"


	4. Letter Four

**_Letter Four_**

Brennan was slightly disappointed when there wasn't a new note. Some sick part of her mind liked the thought that someone was sending her beautiful snippets of poetry.

With still no cases that required Booth's attention, she relied on the bodies in Limbo to keep her occupied. She was gone a half an hour to get a fresh skeleton from bone storage. When she walked back inside her office, another piece of paper sitting there, waiting to be opened.

She rushed over to it and flattened it out to read it.

"If I were her lover,

I'd wade through the clover

Over the field before

The pathway that leads to her door;

And watch, in the twinkle

Of stars that sprinkle

The paradise over her door,

For the soul of my soul and more.

And there in the clover

I'd reach her;

And over and over

I'd teach her--

A love without sighs,

Of laughterful eyes,

That reckoned each second

The pause of a kiss,

A kiss and…that is

If I were her lover to teach her."

P.S. Think about all the people that could've sent you these and pick the most logical

-Your Secret Admirer

Brennan read it with newly found excitement as she bounded towards Angela's office, earning several perplexed stares from different scientists. Brennan came in with a huge smile as she saw Angela reviewing some security camera footage with Cam standing right next to her. She skidded to a halt, which failed to go unnoticed by Cam, or the giant grin on the good doctor's face.

"Dr. Brennan, do you have something you'd like to share with me?" Cam asked. She'd never seen the female doctor so ecstatic.

"No, Cam, it's just…irrelevant personal stuff." Brennan struggled for the right words.

"She's got an admirer sending her poetry and she's freaking out." Angela said.

"Ahh…that explains it." she replied.

"Look at this one, Ange." Brennan gave it handed it to her while Cam read over her shoulder. The two women were silent as they read while an impatient Brennan waited for them to finish.

"Sweetie…do you know who this is?" Angela asked.

"No, not the slightest idea. The handwriting looks familiar, but I just can't place it." Brennan flopped down on the edge of Angela's desk.

Angela, however, erupted into laughter. "Alright…this has gone on long enough." she said between giggles.

"What has, Ange?" Brennan looked completely dumb-founded, which only made Angela laugh harder.

"This, sweetie," Angela fished out a handful of half-folded papers. When Brennan looked at them, it all finally came together in her mind. "He gave me fifty bucks to shut up about it and re-write them so you wouldn't recognize the handwriting." she rationalized.

Brennan stood speechless. Out of all the people the thought it could be, the simple answer now right in front of her, it was so easy to see.

"You gonna kill me, Bren?" Angela asked.

"You deserve it, but I won't, I don't want to go to prison. I'll see you later." she said brusquely.

"Where're you going Dr. Brennan?" Cam asked.

Brennan looked up from her thinking state. "To finish all of this."

~.~

-Madison Julius Cawein's "If I Were Her Lover: part III"


	5. The Last One

_**The Last One**_

Booth came storming into the Jeffersonian with a slightly amused look on his face. Several scientists, familiar and not, smiled at him in a pleasant 'top o' the morning' way. He walked towards Brennan's office where she asked to meet him.

"You wanted to see me, Bones? You miss me?" he asked teasingly. Brennan gave him a wordless smile and gestured for him to sit on the couch. He did so while talking. "You know, I knew it somewhere. You couldn't go the whole week without…" she interrupted his ribbing session by laying a hand over his mouth. Brennan didn't know where they were, she couldn't see them, but all of a sudden she felt numerous pairs of eyes watching her.

"I ask that you won't say anything until I get through this." On his nod, she began:

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints--I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,

I shall love thee better after death."

Brennan heard the small gasps and whispers that came from behind her door. Booth looked on into her eyes, completely mesmerized and shocked at her confession.

"It couldn't be danced around any longer, Booth." she whispered simply.

Booth rose and shut the door completely, never breaking eye contact with her. He came back and sat down directly in front of her where he had been before. She was on the coffee table and he was on the couch. Still holding her gaze, he took both her hands in his. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he started to speak:

"My love is like to ice, and I to fire:

How come it then that this her cold is so great

Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,

But harder grows the more I her entreat?

Or how comes it that my exceeding heat

Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,

But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,

And feel my flames augmented manifold?

That fire, which is congealed with senseless cold,

Should kindle fire by wonderful device?

Such is the power of love in gentle mind,

That it can alter all the course of kind."

Booth finished his speech. Brennan actually felt tears stinging her own eyes. She now looked down at their entwined hands, not ready to make the break.

She spoke first, "At the beginning, I thought you were insulting me." she chuckled.

I could never, Bones. I love you, with everything that I am. I'm only sorry it took me so long to say it." Booth whispered. There was no reason to speak up and to keep the prying ears wondering.

"I love you, Booth. I never even realized it until I got those and thought they we're from somebody else. I just hoped that they were from you." she confessed. She didn't even vocalize the thought to Angela.

Booth leaned in slightly, giving Brennan every chance possible to reject. She got tired of waiting and pulled him to her by the tie. It was a perfect (official) first kiss: tender, loving, and nothing short of amazing. When they broke apart, they remembered where they were and the whos that were at the door.

"What do you say we get out of here, Temperance?" he asked cockily.

"I'd say 'lets'…Seeley." she teased. He grinned at her.

It was edging on nine o'clock at night when the pair walked out through the sliding glass doors that the anxious listeners wiped the tears from their eyes while watching the odd couple walk out of the lab hand in hand.

Angela was the first to speak through quiet tears, "have you ever seen anything so meant to be?" she asked Cam.

Cam, who had developed a strong fondness of the pair since working there, replied with, "No, I don't think that anything was more meant to be in the world. And all it took was a few sappy love letters."

_**The End**_

_**June 4, 2009**_

*** * * * * * ***

**Brennan's poem = Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "How Do I Love Thee?"**

**Booth's poem = Edmund Spenser's "My Love Is Like Ice"**

**Reviews are always welcome, As always *sadly* I don't own Bones or any of the previous poems.**


End file.
